


So kiss me and smile for me

by RosingsPark



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Kissing for science, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23092873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosingsPark/pseuds/RosingsPark
Summary: Enjolras doesn't know how to kiss. He asks Grantaire to teach him.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 182





	So kiss me and smile for me

“Grantaire?”

Grantaire doesn’t look up from his laptop screen, where he’s furiously throwing out an essay that needs to be handed in before noon tomorrow. “Hmm?”

Enjolras doesn’t say anything for a second, but then he leans closer, obstructing Grantaire’s view of his screen.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Can I borrow a moment of your time?”

Grantaire finally looks up into Enjolras’ anxious face. He considers his essay for a moment, then slowly pushes his laptop closed. “Always for you, my darling,” he says, one corner of his mouth curling up as Enjolras wrinkles his nose at the endearment. Enjolras _hates_ endearments.

Enjolras is silent again. Grantaire looks up at him expectantly. “Well?”

“Okay, so. I have a weird request – “

“—Yes, I _will_ hide a body with you.”

Enjolras sighs and shakes his head. “Not quite that weird. But I’m amazed that you’d agree to engage in a criminal offense that easily.”

Anything for Enjolras, Grantaire thinks. Anything.

“So, if I won’t go to prison for it… what else can it be?”

Enjolras – and Grantaire has to blink and check _twice_ – blushes. The apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his aquiline nose go perfectly pink

“Uh, so maybe you know I have never dated before,” Enjolras begins.

“I think I was aware of that, yes?” Grantaire says expectantly, nodding at him to go on. He is _very_ aware of that.

Enjolras takes a steadying breath and closes his eyes. Then all at once, he says: “Well as I’ve never dated before, I’ve never kissed anyone either, and since I do _want_ to date I feel like some previous knowledge of kissing might be required and I was wondering if you would do it.”

He says it so fast that Grantaire almost thinks he hears Enjolras ask him to kiss him. “Come again?”

This makes Enjolras go even more red.

“Will you please teach me how to kiss?”

Grantaire stares at him. Blinks. Swallows a lump in his throat that he didn’t know was there. “Why me?”

Enjolras shrugs. “You look like you might be a good kisser?”

Grantaire scoffs. “Why not Courfeyrac? I _know_ for a fact that Courfeyrac is a good kisser.”

Enjolras frowns slightly at that. “That would be incestuous. And Combeferre would get upset.”

Grantaire nods, considering.

“So?” Enjolras says hesitantly.

There are approximately five thousand emotions battling for dominance inside of Grantaire. Confusion, excitement, arousal and apprehension seem to take a shared second place, right behind curiosity. Why the – and he cannot stress this enough – everlasting fuck would Enjolras go to _him_ for kissing lessons. They hardly even like each other, do they? Well, at least, he concedes, _Enjolras_ doesn’t like _him_. Or so he thought.

He frowns up at Enjolras. “Why would I do it?”

This question seems to take Enjolras aback. “You’ll get to make mean comments about my lack of kissing skills?” he offers. “Please?”

Grantaire won’t. He’ll have a whole entirely different reaction to kissing Enjolras, he knows that. Looking into Enjolras’ face, he can see a sliver of desperation.

“Fine.”

Enjolras breaks into a nervous smile. “Really? Alright, we’ll need to establish some ground rules.”

“Perfect,” Grantaire says, rolling his chair slightly backward. Enjolras sits down at the edge of the table and it takes all of Grantaire not to stare at Enjolras’ round thigh.

“We won’t talk to anyone else about this,” says Enjolras, “and this is strictly for, like, science. I need a teacher, you can teach me. That’s all.”

Grantaire purses his lips and nods. “How about tongues?”

Enjolras blanches. “What about tongues?”

“Can I use them?”

The colour returns abruptly to Enjolras’ face. “Um, yes. You’re the teacher.”

“Hands?”

This time, Enjolras is more prepared. “Only above the waist.”

Grantaire huffs. “Who touches below the waist on a first kiss?”

“Not me, evidently,” Enjolras replies.

Grantaire raises an eyebrow up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“ _Now_?” Enjolras sounds strangled. “I was thinking we’d make an appointment. For next week.”

“Yes, _now_. Before either of us thinks the better of it. Come on.” He knows that if he doesn’t take Enjolras up on his offer today, he never will. He’ll chicken out, make up some shitty excuse and then regret it for a considerable part of the future.

He stands up and grabs Enjolras’ hand to pull him off the table. It feels weird, touching Enjolras. They’ve known each other since the start of their first semester, two years ago now. But while they’re both very tactile with their other friends, Grantaire thinks he can count the times he and Enjolras touched on one hand.

Facing each other, Grantaire notices how they’re just about the same height, Enjolras just ever so slightly taller. Grantaire gives a tiny nod of approval, which Enjolras notices.

“This is good,” Grantaire explains. “With too much of a height difference, you’re both liable to end up with the most excruciating neck and back pain. Once, I made out with a guy who was 6’5 feet tall, and the next day I could barely get out of my bed, my muscles were that sore –” he shuts up abruptly when he notices he’s rambling. “Anyway. How do you want to do this?”

Enjolras blinks at him. “Well. I came to you for lessons, so you tell me how we’re doing this.”

Grantaire drags his hand through his hair. “Never thought I’d see the day where you would let me take the lead,” he huffs, laughing a little.

Enjolras makes a choking sound.

Grantaire’s brains are close to boiling over. So Enjolras has come to him with the explicit wish for Grantaire to kiss him. To _kiss_ him. It’s almost too much looking at Enjolras’ plush lips.

“Okay,” he lets out a shuddering sigh, steeling himself. “Let’s do it then.”

“Let’s do it,” Enjolras agrees.

Grantaire leans closer, very slowly, until he can feel the air unsteadily escaping Enjolras’ mouth on his own. Then, he closes the distance. _God_ but how he has dreamed of doing this for the longest time.

He pulls back after a few seconds, when Enjolras doesn’t respond to his kiss. Has he already messed up?

Enjolras face has gone even redder than before. “Was that alright?”

Something softens in Grantaire’s heart. Whereas before there was some part of him wondering whether this was all part of a practical joke, he’s now sure that Enjolras a) has never kissed before and b) actually wants him to teach him.

“You know, you can kiss back,” Grantaire says.

“I was,” Enjolras replies, immediately on the defensive. “I leaned in, didn’t I?”

Grantaire gives him a slight frown. “Eh. Yes. Enjolras? Have you ever seen other people kiss? In real life? Tv? Porn, maybe?”

“Porn is unethical,” Enjolras says, folding his arms in front of his chest.

If somebody told him that morning that he would be discussing porn with Enjolras – _Enjolras!_ – he would laugh in their faces. But here they are.

“Normally, kissing back means actually _moving_ one’s mouth.”

“Okay, fine,” Enjolras replies. “I’ll try again.”

“Just follow my lead,” Grantaire says, then does a double take, grins. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

Enjolras smiles up at him, a hazy expression in his eyes. A weird smile Grantaire can’t quite place.

He leans in again and this time Enjolras relaxes against him, leaning in properly. A contented sigh escapes Enjolras’ mouth and Grantaire’s eyes fly open, only to find that Enjolras hasn’t even closed his.

“You can close your eyes,” Grantaire says as soon as they break apart, heart hammering at the brief thought that Enjolras might be actually enjoying this.

“Why?”

“Kissing is about the senses. Also, it’s weird to see somebody in such close-up.”

“What if I like the close-up?” Enjolras says.

Grantaire’s brains short-circuit. If he didn’t know better, he would almost think that Enjolras is flirting with him. Awkward and slightly weird, but flirting nonetheless.

He shakes his head and leans in again, Enjolras following suit. Enjolras’ lips are soft and slightly moist from when he licked them just before the kiss. He’s slow to move, his lips parting ever so slightly as his mouth glides across Grantaire’s. Grantaire wasn’t wrong when he said it was the perfect height, because their heads slot together perfectly.

Grantaire takes a step closer and puts a hand on Enjolras’ bicep without breaking the kiss. After a second’s hesitation, Enjolras mirrors Grantaire’s movements, and now they’re standing flush together. Grantaire can feel every inch of Enjolras body and a flash of heat courses through him. He kisses Enjolras harder and lets his hand slide up to the side of his face.

Enjolras pulls back, his breath coming quickly. “That was…instructive,” he says finally.

Is it over now? He was just starting to get used to kissing Enjolras, and he doesn’t want it to be over yet. Hell, he doesn’t want it to _ever_ be over. He can’t tell Enjolras that, though.

“Well, you asked,” he shrugs. “It’s no problem. Was that everything you wanted to know?”

Grantaire takes a step back and notices Enjolras’ eyes fall to Grantaire’s mouth.

“Well,” Enjolras says, hesitating a little. Grantaire has never known him to be unsure of his own words, and he leans in slightly, both anticipating and dreading what might come next. “Maybe you could teach me how to use tongues?”

Blood rushes to Grantaire’s groin and he swallows. Enjolras has gone red too.

“Tongues, yes,” Grantaire’s voice comes out oddly high and strangled and he wants to slap himself. “Naturally.”

Enjolras is just standing there, looking expectantly at him, pink blotches across his face, making him even more beautiful than Grantaire thought he could ever be.

Grantaire takes a step closer again, wills his breathing to steady. Enjolras’ proximity is like a drug, and his lips are an overdose.

“Tell me how, first?” Enjolras says, sounding slightly anxious.

Grantaire swallows. “Alright. You never go in with tongues immediately,” he explains, closing the distance between their bodies slowly. He puts a hand on Enjolras’ arm again and leans in to give him a soft kiss, pulling back quickly. If this is the only time he’s going to kiss Enjolras in his entire life, then he’s going to make it last, and he’s going to make it _good_.

“First, you heat things up a little.” He can’t believe himself, can’t believe this is happening. “Kiss without tongues, get used to each other, feel each other,” he says.

He hears Enjolras swallow as he leans in again, going for a longer kiss this time. Enjolras’ breath hitches as their lips meet, and Grantaire meets with a soft welcome. This kiss is harder, and hotter. Enjolras is a quick learner, responding with growing enthusiasm as Grantaire pushes himself flush against him.

He pulls back, a few centimetres at most because he doesn’t want to be farther away from Enjolras than strictly necessary. “You can touch me,” he says.

Enjolras looks mildly panicked, but nods, and puts one hand on the small of Grantaire’s back. Grantaire feels like he might explode.

Enjolras leans in and kisses him before Grantaire gets the chance. Grantaire loses count of the minutes as their kiss deepens and Enjolras’ other hand lands on his pec. Enjolras’ mouth is so soft and warm, Grantaire wants to drown in it. Enjolras is unsure and unsteady at first but quickly gets the hang of it. Grantaire envies the man who will get to kiss Enjolras for the rest of his life.

They pull apart minutes later, hot and flushed, their breathing coming in hard. Grantaire is desperate to just continue kissing, but he only barely manages to remember that he’s supposed to be teaching Enjolras how to kiss, and that perhaps he should give instructions.

“So, tongues,” he says.

“Tongues,” Enjolras agrees.

“There is absolutely no fine art to this. No rules, no regulations. You just have to do it – but not _overdo_ it. No washing machines.”

“So show me,” Enjolras says, his voice is heavy and heady, the sound of it going directly to Grantaire’s crotch.

He pulls Enjolras close again, kisses him until he’s able to coach Enjolras’ mouth open, and flicks his tongue in just a little. Enjolras does a double take and – _sweet baby Jesus –_ moans into his mouth. Grantaire abruptly lets him go.

Enjolras’ eyes have gone wide as saucers. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no. You didn’t do anything at all. I – ” He’s cut off by Enjolras taking his head in his hands and pulling him into another kiss. Their tongues meet, Enjolras so unsure that it’s almost cute.

“You – just – give – these – little – licks,” Grantaire says in between kisses, tongue sliding in and out of Enjolras’ mouth. “Or,” he adds, sliding his tongue across Enjolras’ bottom lip, “you can suck. Or bite, even.” His teeth push into Enjolras’ lip as softly as he can manage and Enjolras moans again.

“Want to try,” Enjolras whimpers. Grantaire has never known him to be this close to unintelligibility, but then again, Grantaire is as good as braindead now anyway, so he doesn’t particularly mind.

Their roles switch as Grantaire lets go of control and Enjolras bites his lips, softly at first and then when Grantaire snakes his arms around Enjolras waist, taking Grantaire’s bottom lip between his own and sucking.

Grantaire’s hips involuntarily buck up. It’s a slight movement, but Enjolras notices. He stills for a second and Grantaire worries he has ruined everything now. But then Enjolras smiles against his mouth and deepens the kiss, letting his tongue slide against Grantaire’s.

It’s hot and wet and Grantaire is _losing his fucking mind_.

“Normally at this point, you start touching the other person,” he says, wondering at himself for being capable of speech.

“I am touching you,” Enjolras says, frowning a little.

“I meant _touching_.”

Enjolras’ eyes flutter closed. “I see.”

“But you don’t have to.”

Enjolras nods and kisses him again and suddenly his hands start roaming the broad expanse of Grantaire’s back, feeling him, exploring him. First, his shoulder blades. Then Enjolras trails his way down his spine, tantalisingly slow, until _holy shit_ , his hands slide over the curve of his ass.

That’s one of their ground rules broken, thrown to the ground and trampled on. He loves it.

Grantaire doesn’t hold back his moan and takes Enjolras’ head between his hands. There’s such an overwhelming need to be closer to Enjolras, even though their bodies are already flush together. He pushes Enjolras backwards towards his desk until Enjolras bumps against it. He seems to take the hint, and sits on top of it, and spreads his legs to make space for Grantaire so they can continue their kiss.

Enjolras’ eyes are hazy when he looks up at Grantaire. “Am I doing this right?”

Right? _Right_. He smiles to himself. Wanting to learn and reflect and perfect a technique is so quintessentially Enjolras that he feels like weeping with happiness and arousal.

“You’re a natural.” And then he adds, because he can’t help himself: “The guy you’re meaning to date is a lucky fellow.”

“Is he?”

Grantaire nods eagerly and means to kiss him again, but Enjolras pulls away from him. “Listen, R,” – and Grantaire is very aware that Enjolras has only ever called him by his full name – “I have a confession to make. I, eh, roped you into this under false pretences.”

Grantaire frowns at Enjolras. The air in the space between them is cold on his skin, and there’s nothing he wants more than to close in on the distance and touch Enjolras again. A spark of worry brings him more or less back to the present.

“What do you mean?”

“When I said I never dated and wanted to learn how to kiss – well, that was all true. But I had a specific person in question. One I want to date, I mean.”

Grantaire steps back, clears his throat. “I see. Well, as I said, he’s a lucky man. And I think you, er, you’ve got the basics. So –”

Enjolras reaches out his hand as Grantaire makes ready to leave, and grabs him by the wrist. “No, R, you don’t understand me.”

There’s a weird smile on Enjolras’ face. It’s part anxious, part hopeful, and it makes the contents of Grantaire’s stomach swirl with tantalising anticipation.

“It’s – well – it’s _you_ ,” Enjolras says quickly, looking brazenly up at him, as if the very confession gives him the confidence he lacked before.

“Who is Hugh?” Grantaire replies, dumbfounded.

“Not _Hugh_ , you asshole,” Enjolras replies, tugging at his wrist and pulling him closer so that there are mere centimetres between them again. “You. You, R.”

“Me?” Grantaire mouths, and Enjolras nods. “Why didn’t you say?”

“I didn’t know if you would be amenable,” Enjolras says. Then: “So?”

Grantaire cocks an eyebrow. “You thought I was amenable to teaching you how to kiss, but not kissing you as in, well, dating?”

Enjolras wrinkles his nose and looks up at him, his face pleading. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“I wasn’t aware you asked one,” Grantaire answers.

Enjolras shakes his head in disbelief, a smile tugging at his lips. “Pedant,” he says, and he pulls Grantaire closer, and kisses him.

Grantaire loses all sense of space and time as Enjolras wraps his legs around him and they continue where they left off. Enjolras meets him with a new fervour, and he smiles because the eagerness is just _so Enjolras_. He loses himself in their embrace, the heady slide of their wet mouths against each other, the feeling of Enjolras’ lean body beneath his hands. He doesn’t know how much more of this he’ll be able to handle and he’s so scared that this is all a dream he’s about to wake up from.

He moans into Enjolras’ mouth, and it seems to bring Enjolras back to earth because he pulls his head back with a wet pop.

“What happens next? After making out?” Enjolras looks up at him coyly.

Grantaire swallows and Enjolras tugs at the neckline of Grantaire’s shirt. He tenses his leg muscles, forcing Grantaire closer to him, so close that there’s suddenly a hot friction as their groins slot together.

“God, you’re a fast learner,” Grantaire whimpers. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Enjolras grins. “So show me.”

Grantaire does.

**Author's Note:**

> R's anecdote about the tall man was 100% my own experience, thank you
> 
> Title from 'Leaving on a Jet Plane', which I think I, also being a Reylo, am allowed to steal for these boys.


End file.
